Washington City

September 21, 1861

Mrs. Margret Greenman, looking every bit as refined and superior as Evelyn remembered, stared at them while she stirred her tea. Evelyn and Alice had finally made it to Washington to call upon the widow who’d only months ago had been a part of Evelyn’s social season.

Had it only been months? So much had happened, it seemed years. She smoothed the russet folds of a silk gown she’d purchased upon their arrival. It had cost more than expected, and Evelyn worried that if she did not find Daddy quickly, her limited funds would soon come to an end.

She fingered her mother’s pearl necklace draped across her neck, hoping she looked the lady Mrs. Greenman would expect. The silence thickened, broken only by the click of the widow’s spoon in her delicate cup.

On the blue parlor settee next to Evelyn, Alice kept her gaze on her folded hands. Alice had recovered splendidly, thanks to the dedicated care of Doctor Samuel Flynn. The thought of him caused an irrational stirring in Evelyn’s chest, not unlike the prolonged stirring their hostess used with her tea.

“These tarts are delicious, Mrs. Greenman,” Alice said, interrupting the awkward silence. “Thank you.”

“Certainly.”

She seemed disinclined to inquire about the nature of their visit, leaving Evelyn with the familiar feeling of being out of place. But after all she’d been through, finding herself seated in the parlor of a well-to-do Washington lady who deemed to look down her nose at her didn’t intimidate Evelyn the way it once had.

“Miss Mapleton, does your aunt know you’re here?” Mrs. Greenman’s delicate brows lifted with the question. A woman two decades her senior, Margret Greenman was fetching beyond her youth. Little wonder the widow had charmed information out of many a Washington politician.

Evelyn held her gaze. “I left word. I decided I would go ahead and meet Daddy here rather than wait for him to travel to Front Royal to fetch me.”

Mrs. Greenman turned shrewd eyes onto Alice. “And you, Miss Avery? Are you also looking for family in Washington?”

“No, ma’am. I’m only after the cause for which I’ve devoted myself.”

The lady gave no expression in regard to such a declaration, neither in surprise nor excitement. She merely accepted it with the stoic grace of one of her social standing.

Knowing full well Mrs. Greenman would frown upon Evelyn prodding her for information, she kept her lips seamed despite her inward squirming to know what had become of her father.

“As I recall, Mr. Mapleton is a member of the press,” the lady said, drawing the matter out.

Evelyn’s heart quickened. “He is. You’ve spoken with him?”

Mrs. Greenman set her gold-rimmed teacup on a delicate saucer. “I have not. Though the government has soundly silenced all men of the press in Washington. Well, except those paid from its coffers.”

Evelyn exchanged a worried glance with Alice. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that the hirelings of the government press have exercised their ingenuity in mystifying the people.”

To this, Evelyn could garner no response. It seemed, however, Mrs. Greenman had no need of one in order to continue her discourse.

“Shameful, it is. They misrepresent things from every angle. Why, it’s acceptable to recount the gasconade of those who fled from imaginary foes, yet they deem it unnecessary to describe the forlorn condition of the returning soldiers who had gone forth to battle flushed with anticipated triumph they did not find.” She steepled her fingers. “Rather, we must read reports of how General Burnside, on the morning he sallied forth, was said to have required two orderlies to carry the flowers showered upon him by the women of Northern proclivities. Meanwhile, the voices of the people call out for the where and why of the disasters of this war. But, alas, the government knows that were this discontent allowed to gather strength, it may well hurl them from their present lawless eminence to the ignominy they merit.”

What did any of that have to do with Daddy? “My father would not propagate such tactics. He is a man set on delivering the truth.” Despite niggling doubts, she would not think otherwise until she’d had opportunity to speak with him.

Mrs. Greenman’s eyes sparked. “And hence, his voice has likely been silenced. I’ve not seen the first byline with his name.”

Evelyn could feel the color draining from her face.

Mrs. Greenman held up her hand. “Now, I am not saying any harm has come to him. Merely that men who seek to report the truth of our present circumstances are not allowed to put such opinions into print.”

“Surely that is unethical,” Alice quipped. “It can’t be as bad as that.”

“Do not be naïve, Miss Avery. This is not the Washington City of years past. Ruffians fill the streets. Insults, curses, and blasphemy rent the air on any given hour. Many of the decent citizens left the city as rapidly as the means of transportation or conveyance could be obtained.”

A weight, heavy as a cannonball, settled in Evelyn’s stomach. She’d finally made it to Washington, but seemed no closer to locating her father. She’d been certain Mrs. Greenman would tell her his whereabouts. Propriety set aside, she leaned forward.

“You received a letter from my aunt, did you not?”

Mrs. Greenman lifted her eyebrows. “I’ve received hardly any correspondence of late, and nothing from Mary.”

“Aunt Mary sent you a letter asking if you knew where my father resided in Washington. When we asked to call, I was hoping you would know his whereabouts.”

The lady’s eyes softened. “I’m quite sorry, Miss Mapleton. I did not receive such a letter. Had I, I would have put forth an effort to locate him.” She shook her head. “It comes as no surprise, though, given the deplorable state of things in this city.”

Tears burned at the back of her throat. What was she to do now?

“It’s brave of you to stay,” Alice stated, breaking the silence and affording Evelyn a moment. She twirled the fringe of her dress around one finger. “It’s my desire to aid you in the good work you do, and if you don’t mind my boldness, was the reason I traveled to Washington. I aim to join you.”

Mrs. Greenman rose and closed the parlor door. Upon her return, she offered a smile that spoke mostly of pity. “Be careful the words you speak, Miss Avery.” She looked to Evelyn. “Regrettably, the person to whom your aunt addressed the letter likely had more to do with its disappearance than the mere upheaval. I have acquired the attention of some rather determined men.”

Knowing she didn’t mean suitors, though the widow probably had an ample supply, Evelyn leaned closer.

“Men have been set upon my heels like starving hounds, dogging every step I make into town. At first I found it rather amusing, some overzealous Northern sympathizer thinking he had discovered me. I once thought a Secessionist with a kindly heart merely sought to offer me some kind of protection. But, alas, a missive from my dear friend, Senator Wilson, indicated he felt as though he were being watched with hawkeyed vigilance. I have come to believe their snooping is of a more nefarious nature. I have been followed, and my house watched, by those emissaries of the State Department, the detective police.” She sipped from her teacup once more, seeming no more unnerved by this declaration than if she had merely informed them of the weather.

Evelyn’s skin crawled with the sensation of being watched, and she glanced toward the window.

“Yes, they have most certainly seen you enter, mark my words. What you do with that now is up to you.”

Evelyn clasped her hands. “And what do you think they will do to us?”

Mrs. Greenman waved the question away. “Nothing. They have merely set upon me to cause irritation and perhaps frighten me away from my work. But as they have not found the first shard of evidence, what shall they say? Mrs. Greenman is entertaining women in her parlor?”

Alice giggled, but Evelyn found no humor in the statement.

Mrs. Greenman admonished her with a haughty sniff. “Be on guard, Miss Avery, because they are as shrewd as snakes. Why, the first acts of the Republican President were to violate the express provisions of the Constitution. Those things set in place by the wisdom of our forefathers for the protection of the rights of the citizens. Those rights have been suspended, all under the plea of military necessity. The law of the land has given place to the law of the despot.”

“It was not easy entering the city,” Evelyn allowed, her disquiet growing with each passing moment. “Even after we made it past all the pickets and finally reached what we expected to be the civility of the city, we came upon more than a few drunken soldiers who expressed no remorse at sending a lady stepping into the ditch.” She shook her head. “And that was the better part of it.”

“Indeed, Miss Mapleton. They’ve had to close the schools, as it is not safe for the children on the streets. I ask you, what kind of army is that?”

Weeks ago, a scathing retort would have jumped from her lips, but after spending many hours under the benevolent direction of Doctor Flynn and tending Federal wounded, Evelyn couldn’t quite form a response. Where she’d at first thought the issues clearly defined, it now seemed rather complicated. She clutched the fabric at her middle, the turmoil within making her stomach sour.

“An unholy army, that is the truth of it,” Alice said, casting Evelyn a curious glance. “Such lawlessness should not avail itself upon the citizenship.”

A knock sounded on the door, startling all three women. With a proper excuse and apology, Mrs. Greenman rose. Why she had no servant to respond, Evelyn couldn’t fathom. No sooner had their hostess swept from the room in a swish of silk did Alice turn to her.

“Heavens, Evelyn, what has come over you?”

“Pardon?”

Alice fanned her face as though Evelyn’s behavior had caused her flutters. “Why, you hardly seem the same woman who gave me the secret codes in the newspapers and smuggled supplies beneath her skirts. I’d thought your help in the Yankee hospital was a ruse necessary while I healed, but now I’m not certain.” She gestured at Evelyn. “Now you seem rather like one who stands with one foot on each side of the divide.”

Evelyn resisted the urge to squirm, realizing there was an undeniable truth in Alice’s statement. When had such a shift occurred?

How could a person set a foot on each side of such a divide? Deep and wide as eternity, there would be no spanning it. One must choose to stand on one side or the other, lest she find herself tumbling into the abyss in between.

“What do you want?” Mrs. Greenman’s elevated voice slipped into the parlor during Evelyn’s prolonged silence.

Alice scurried to the door, leaning close. Alarmed, Evelyn hurried after her, grasping Alice’s hand to pull her back.

“I have come to arrest you.” A man’s voice, cold with authority, made Evelyn’s breath catch.

They’re going to arrest Mrs. Greenman? With us here in the parlor?

Alice turned to Evelyn with wild eyes, the identical thought apparently having occurred to her. Evelyn tried once more to tug Alice away, but Alice shook her head, her eyes hard. She pointed to the door and then set a finger against her lips.

Resigned, Evelyn forced herself to breathe slowly and strained her ears toward the voices in the foyer.

“By what authority?” Mrs. Greenman remained calm, not a hint of concern in her genteel voice.

“By sufficient authority, madam.”

“Oh?” Evelyn could hear a strain of humor in the intrepid lady’s voice. “Very well, then. I shall see your warrant.”

The man mumbled something Evelyn could not quite decipher, only the chilling words State Department slipping into her itching ears. Suddenly more footsteps pounded into the parlor, reminding Evelyn of when the Yankee soldiers had stormed into Aunt Mary’s house. The terror of that day bubbled up like a pot of water over a roaring flame, and she stepped back away from the door, snatching at Alice’s reluctant frame.

Alice yelped and stumbled back toward the settee, her eyes alight with indignation. Evelyn placed a finger to her own lips and settled herself on the seat, indicating Alice should do the same.

Once she was seated, Evelyn whispered, “Act as though you are naught but a dainty lady of vapid intellect having tea with a family friend. Give no hint you have any understanding of what’s happening. If all else fails, rally your feminine indignation that men should act in such ungentlemanly ways.”

Wide-eyed and darting glances toward the door, Alice nodded. No sooner than they had taken up their teacups and fabricated smiles did the parlor door swing open. Men poured in, and before Evelyn could turn a single thought into words, she and Alice were rudely seized by two stern law officers. Without preempt, the men positioned the two of them along one side of the parlor while they hauled Mrs. Greenman through the door. The matron shot them an apologetic glance but spoke not a word.

A tall fellow with a mustache that swished when he spoke announced himself as Captain Dennis. With a loud and authoritative voice, he demanded to know from whence the two of them had come and the nature of their presence within the Greenman home.

Evelyn lifted her chin and donned her most affective air of superiority. “We have come to have tea with a family friend. I did my social season with Mrs. Greenman, and delighted to call upon her while I am in Washington to see my father.” She pinned him with a cold stare. “A pleasant visit you have brutishly interrupted.”

He merely snorted and barked orders to more men, who filed into the room as though they had exploded from a beehive outside the door. “Take them all to the back parlor.”

“What do you intend to do?” Mrs. Greenman inquired, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

“We aim to search,” another bearded man said. He crossed into the parlor with a victorious air, as though he had captured some great prize. Evelyn recognized his voice as the one at the door who’d not been able to produce a warrant.

They were led to another parlor. With its masculine furniture and polished cherry desk, it must have belonged to Mr. Greenman. The smell of pipe smoke no longer lingered in the air, but Evelyn could imagine that it had once permeated the leather furniture and clung to the books lining the wall.

Watching in a surreal awe, she and the other two ladies remained silent under the keen eye of their guard as men unceremoniously stripped the bookshelves and upturned the contents of the desk. The widow observed the crime without a trace of emotion as they pilfered through her husband’s things. Finally, after what seemed an unending expedition where they unearthed nothing, they marched the women to the library.

The scene unfolded in this room much as it had in the other. Every private letter was scrutinized as though it were dangerous correspondence. The men gave no heed to a widow’s affection for such items, and crumpled or tossed them aside. It was upon this disrespect that Mrs. Greenman’s face pinched.

Later, they were moved upstairs. It seemed the three of them were to accompany the marauders upon their ransacking mission through every room in the house. Evelyn could only guess the reason was to see if some slip of expression or gasp of alarm might alert the searchers that they had stumbled upon a sensitive location.

Mrs. Greenman suffered the indignity with grace. It was not until they were marched into her bedroom did the ordeal reach the height of indecency. Mortified, Evelyn watched the scallywags upturn the matron’s bed and strip her wardrobe. Soiled clothes were pounced upon with avidity and mercilessly exposed. Evelyn turned her face away, the heat in her cheeks surely no rival to what must be burning upon Mrs. Greenman’s face.

Still, the woman uttered not a word as her desk was stripped of papers. Even torn sheets in the receptacles were carefully gathered and scrutinized. Mrs. Greenman observed all of this with keen eyes, and Evelyn marveled at her composure. Had someone set their hands upon her own underthings… Why, she could not even finish the thought!

“There are many papers which speak treason,” the man who’d not brought a warrant stated, regarding Mrs. Greenman with sharp eyes.

Alice seemed to bristle under the words, though no one had spoken to her. She stepped next to Evelyn.

Mrs. Greenman drew a deep breath. “I’m a Southern woman, Mr. Peterson. Born with revolutionary blood in my veins. My first ideas on State and Federal matters received consistency and shape from the best and wisest man of this century, Mr. John C. Calhoun. These ideas have been strengthened and matured by reading and observation. Freedom of speech and thought are my birthrights, guaranteed by our charter of liberty, the Constitution of the United States, and signed and sealed by the blood of our fathers.”

The detective she called Mr. Peterson narrowed his gaze into sharp slits.

“As such,” Mrs. Greenman continued, “I’m entitled to my own opinions and have the right to discuss the nature of our current political state.”

After some grunts and the call for someone by the name of Seymour, the papers were again thoroughly examined. Seymour, a tall fellow with intelligent eyes and a pleasant expression given the circumstances, finally replaced Mrs. Greenman’s papers inside her desk and turned to her with something akin to sympathy in his baritone voice.

“Well, madam, you have no reason to feel anything but pride and satisfaction at the ordeal you have gone through. For there is not a line amongst your papers that does not do you honor. It is the most extensive private correspondence that has ever fallen under my examination, and the most interesting and important. There is not a distinguished name in America that is not found here, and nothing that can come under the charge of treason.” He lifted his hands. “Naught but enough to make the government dread and hold you as a most dangerous adversary.”

Evelyn’s mouth went dry.

“A woman will soon be sent to this chamber for further searching.” He gave a slight bow. “Good evening, ladies.”

The intruders filed from the room, and in a matter of heartbeats, a rap came at the door, which still stood ajar.

A woman stepped across the threshold without waiting for a response. Evelyn didn’t know exactly what she’d anticipated a female detective to look like, but this one seemed less interesting than she might have expected. Her face was neither unpleasant nor fetching, and she examined them with dull brown eyes. She gave them her Christian name, Susan, but did not provide a family name by which to properly address her.

The stiff woman ran her hands along the inner and outer seams of Evelyn’s and Alice’s gowns, and required they turn out their pockets. Finding nothing, she instructed poor Mrs. Greenman to unfasten her garments and hand each piece over for inspection.

Evelyn and Alice both gasped.

“Miss…um, Susan?” Evelyn asked, her nerves a-flutter. “My companion and I would step from the room and afford our hostess the proper modesty.”

“You may turn your back, if you wish, but you may not leave,” Susan stated flatly, her gaze never lifting from Mrs. Greenman’s shoe, as though she expected to find some great mystery engraved upon the leather.

Evelyn whirled around, humiliation and fury churning within. What manner of churlish fiend would subject a lady to such indecency? The only thing that kept this from being nigh on the same violation as Martinsville was at least they had not attempted to have a man perform such a task!

When at long last the ordeal had been thoroughly conducted, Susan strode from the room with nary a scrap with which to present the detectives. While the door yet stood open, a startled scream came from downstairs and made Evelyn’s hear skip a beat.

“What manner of inhumanity are you extracting upon my maid?” Mrs. Greenman demanded of the detective standing watch in the doorway, her eyes flint-hard. It seemed the last humiliation had finally unmoored the lady from her steadfast calm.

“Your maid is not being harmed,” the red-haired man said flippantly, though he could not have known for sure, seeing as how he’d not moved from his position by the door.

Mrs. Greenman exercised the near royal extent of her station and bearing and insisted in no uncertain terms that someone go below stairs and report the precise circumstances that occurred.

Even a man who stole into homes and ransacked possessions could not deny the authority in her demand, and he mumbled something about shrieking females as he marched down the steps. In due time the disgruntled man returned, informing the stoic Mrs. Greenman that two colored servants had come by the house and were being held for questioning, but were completely unharmed. Mrs. Greenman made no response.

As dark descended on the house, gloomy perils seemed ever more to envelop them. Despite the evening chill, they were not allowed to stoke the fire. The detective said he would not risk Mrs. Greenman having an opportunity to burn anything yet undiscovered.

Evelyn’s head ached. She should have never come here. But how was she to know she’d call upon Mrs. Greenman just as the government sought to accuse her? It would seem all of the rumors about the resourceful widow had been true.

Evelyn eyed Alice, who remained quietly watchful near the door. If nothing else, surely this ordeal would convince her friend to abandon ideas of clandestine activities.

Evelyn certainly had no wish to partake. All she wanted was to locate her father, and then perhaps he’d allow her to keep residence with him. Perhaps she could even find a paying position working in hospitals so as not to be a burden to him. She’d discovered that while the work was exhausting, it was also fulfilling in a way she’d not expected.

The women remained in the chamber to wait, the partially opened door not hampering the detectives’ discussion about a continued search. Evelyn clenched her hands. When would she and Alice be allowed to leave? They were not suspects, were they? Having not been searched by the female detective, Evelyn had thought they would soon be released. However, as time stretched on, that seemed less likely.

Finally, the detectives left for the evening. Unfortunately, the subordinates remaining had somehow come upon Mr. Greenman’s store of brandy. By the time full dark fell, the men outside the door of Mrs. Greenman’s room had consumed enough drink that their loosened tongues began to wag and they turned their backs on their charges.

No longer under immediate scrutiny, Mrs. Greenman’s shoulders sagged. “I am sorry you girls have been swept into this madness. However, it seems we have little choice but to keep our wits about us and avail ourselves of the inebriated state of our guards.” She eased closer and lowered her voice. “Once they have relaxed themselves further, we shall steal through the house.”

Relieved, Evelyn let out a sigh. “You have a plan for escape, then?”

Mrs. Greenman regarded her closely. “I don’t think that will benefit us. Upon so doing we may instead find ourselves imprisoned at the Old Capitol rather than in the comforts of home.”

“What are you going to do, then?” Alice whispered, her large eyes more rounded than usual.

“I must go to the library and destroy every paper of consequence. I don’t doubt they will not survive another day of searching, and if we are to have any hope of escaping these trials unscathed, those papers will have to be destroyed.”

Unscathed hardly seemed possible at the moment.

“I’ll help,” Alice said, her smile bright.

Mrs. Greenman shook her head. “No, you stay here and keep watch on the guards to be sure they do not take notice of us.”

Annoyance colored Alice’s eyes, but she nodded her agreement.

“Evelyn, you come with me. I’ll need your assistance.”

Evelyn bit her lip. “Mrs. Greenman, I don’t think I—”

“Do you wish to go to prison?”

“No, but…”

“They already suspect you, or you would have been allowed to leave by now. Nothing you say will change their minds. Do they discover these papers, then your fate is sealed with my own. Do as I say, and this will all the sooner be over.”

Seeing no other option, Evelyn reluctantly agreed.

Mrs. Greenman instructed Alice that should the guards return to the chamber from their place down the hall in Mr. Greenman’s bedroom, she was to commence a loud conversation with them by means of both distraction and warning.

The plan thus in place, Evelyn and Mrs. Greenman left the bedchamber as silently as possible. They maneuvered down the darkened hall, Evelyn intent on keeping Mrs. Greenman’s shifting shadow separated from all the others that lurked in the hallway. It took every ounce of her concentration not to make a misstep and alert the guards.

With heart thudding and palms sweating, she crept along behind Mrs. Greenman, the woman possessing a stealth Evelyn marveled at. They slipped across silent floors and into the quiet of the library. Mrs. Greenman secured the door and let out a wary breath, the only indication that the excursion had been as worrisome to her as it had Evelyn.

Mrs. Greenman scurried across the library, snagged a chair near the far shelf, and climbed upon it. Frozen with awe, Evelyn watched the elite woman’s fingers roam the shelves like a cat in search of a mouse in the upper beams of a barn. Finally, the widow snagged a folio from the upper reaches on top of the bookshelf. With what seemed to be practiced ease, she slipped it up between her skirt and petticoat. For a moment, Evelyn could only stare. Aunt Mary would have fainted over such a scandal.

“What do you propose to do with those?” Evelyn whispered, wondering how exactly the widow thought to dispose of that many papers, especially without a single fire allowed in the house. “You can’t burn it, and if any of us are ever allowed to leave, we most surely will be searched.” The thought of undergoing the humiliating event Mrs. Greenman had been forced to endure sent a shiver down her spine.

Mrs. Greenman pressed one finger against her lips. Then she brightened. “That foul woman did not insist upon the removal of my stockings during her undignified search.” Her eyes turned down upon Evelyn’s feet, and she raised her brows.

Knowing what would come next, Evelyn shook her head. “You ask too much.”

“Too much?” Mrs. Greenman quipped, her expression muddled in the dark but her tone evidence enough of her ire. “Too much when this very day you have seen the mannerisms of these brutes? Seen firsthand the terrors of this government?” She drew nearer, so close that Evelyn could smell her French perfume. “What is too much to aid in the most noble effort to escape tyranny? Did not our revolutionary men and women suffer for the sake of freedom? Do you think so little of the cause that you cannot suffer a fraction of what others have endured?”

Thoroughly lashed by this revelation of her cowardice, Evelyn could only nod. It was a slight gesture, and not one done in earnest, but Mrs. Greenman accepted it all the same. In a matter of a few hurried moments, Mrs. Greenman had lowered Evelyn’s stockings and wrapped several sheets of papers around her bare legs like bark around a tree. She then fitted and secured the stockings over them, and though she felt like she had trunks for lower legs, the papers were sufficiently hidden. So long as no one placed their hands upon them and heard a telltale crinkling.

What would she do then?

“When they finally allow you to leave my chambers, which surely they must, if they deign upon searching you, feign to be seized with compunction at leaving me and return. We shall come up with another solution then.”

Evelyn muttered acquiescence and began the arduous journey back to the bedchamber. Every step seemed to crackle with guilt, each movement screaming for the guards to come arrest her. Fear amplified every sound she made. The quiet was then shattered by the sound of quarreling men.

Evelyn and Mrs. Greenman reached the top of the stairs to discover the guards had roused themselves into a heated argument over which of their nationalities was the best: Irish, German or Scottish. Evelyn had to wag her head. Even within their own ranks men squabbled.

Such an upheaval, however, provided ample distraction, and not one of them had yet noticed the two women had slipped free of their confinement, nor did they hear the hurried footsteps of the women bolting back through the door at the opposite end of the hall.

Safely enclosed, Evelyn scowled at Alice. “Were you not to keep watch?”

She huffed. “They seemed adequately preoccupied.”

Alice’s point made, they passed several hours in tense company, each apparently too overwrought to rest. Then, sometime around three in the morning, a knock sounded at the door.

Without waiting for the proper call to enter, the door opened and one of the fellows, Irish by the sound of him, pointed a finger at Alice and then Evelyn. “You two,” he stated, his words slightly slurred, “can go.”

Alice, much to Evelyn’s astonishment, adamantly shook her head. “I shall remain here and keep Mrs. Greenman in respectable company.”

If not for the gravity of the situation, Evelyn might have laughed. Mrs. Greenman, under any other circumstances, would have never deemed a young working class woman respectable company. Today, however, such barriers hardly seemed to matter, as Mrs. Greenman actually seemed relieved. Did she fear to be left alone with these men? Perhaps, but what protection could Alice offer?

“Alice, we must go.”

Alice lifted her chin. “I’ve done nothing wrong, and cannot be charged with such. Therefore, I have nothing to fear. I shall keep Mrs. Greenman company.” She let her gaze drift down Evelyn’s dress. “You should go get some rest, though.”

Evelyn, having the duty of removing evidence from the premise, had no option. She could not make Alice go, and she couldn’t risk staying.

Casting Alice one last glance that pleaded she reconsider this foolish endeavor, Evelyn stepped from the room. She walked carefully down the stairs, the pounding blood in her ears muffling whatever sound emanated from beneath her skirts.

The guard seemed to take no notice of anything, however, and she reached the lower floor without being arrested or manhandled. Then, with all the pomp and circumstance given a mongrel, Evelyn was all but tossed into the street, and the front door soundly shut behind her.

Alone in the cold darkness, terror clawed at her stomach. She turned to the left and right, seeing no one else lurking about at such a witching hour. Unsure what she would do unescorted in the darkness without her pistol to save her, indecision kept her rooted to the ground. She couldn’t very well return inside, nor could she walk about like a lady of the night. And she hadn’t paid any attention on the carriage ride here. How would she remember all the turns it would take to get her back to the hotel?

Oh, Lord. What should I do?

The prayer pounded in her skull, heaving with the rush of blood in her ears. She could not stay here, of that she was certain. That left only one option. With one final glance at the house, she searched for probing eyes watching her. For several moments she scanned the shadows around the house, forcing her quivering insides to maintain composure.

Then, seeing not a single curtain shudder, Evelyn lifted her skirts to a scandalous height and did the only thing her frantic mind could conjure.

She ran.